


Resurfacing

by Stockholmsyndrom



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Fluff, I'm making this up as I go, M/M, Vicchan is alive and well in this one, also, fallen star victor, golden boy of the ice skating world yuuri, human salt shaker yuri, this is yuri!!! on ice, you know the drill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 19:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8726740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stockholmsyndrom/pseuds/Stockholmsyndrom
Summary: When returning to competetive skating after an injury, Viktor Nikiforov simply isn't as good as he used to be. He tanks the Grand Prix finale he worked so hard to even qualify for and seriously contemplates leaving ice skating forever.But then Yuri Plisetsky posts a video of Viktor skating one of Katsuki Yuuri's routines, and the world goes ballistic.





	

Viktor Nikiforov was having a bad day. He had been having a lot of bad days lately, he thought while seeing his placement in the kiss and cry. After a lackluster performance and a few shaky landings he came in fourth in the Grand Prix Finale. And there were still two skaters in the line up after him.

 

The crowd had cheered for him, but it was in no way comparable to how they used to cheer him on. He was used to standing ovations, loud clapping throughout his performance and sometimes a few screams that resembled his name in one way or another. But all of that was in the past now.

 

His face was frozen and expressionless. He did not want to betray any of the emotions that were boiling inside of him. His fans and his team didn’t have to know just how much he was hating himself right now.

 

There was no need to even look at his coach Yakov, who was sitting right beside him. He used to berate Viktor for every little mistake, chew him out for the tiniest of changes in the performance and point out any flaws. But today even he was silent. He had seen it too.

 

Viktor Nikiforov had lost his charm. There was no passion there anymore. He had delivered a completely mediocre performance. And there was nothing that he could do. He had to just accept it. There was no fire in him any more.

 

Yakov stood without even giving Viktor as much as a glance. Viktor felt a little something in him break at seeing his coach - the person who was closest to him and had been ever since he had started skating all those years ago - so clearly disappointed. But the feeling vanished as soon as it had sprung up. He stood up as well, ready to follow him backstage.

 

The announcer called in the next skater and Viktor paused. He watched as Katsuki Yuuri, a 23-year-old skater from Japan, glided onto the ice. He was hailed as the favorite - having won the last three Grand Prix and never boring the audience.

 

He took his position and the music started. Viktor recognized the piece - it was one of his favorite free skating programs the young skater had done so far. The music was slow, it was a mix of traditional Japanese tunes and a soft piano melody.

 

A small smile tugged on the corners of Viktor’s mouth. Yuuri turned to skate to the bittersweet melody - his movements slow and fluid, his dark costume glittering under the lights. He looked like an angel who had fallen in love for the first time - heart stolen away by an undeserving human. Viktor could feel the longing and the desire for love.

 

He was fascinated - as usual. Katsuki Yuuri had taken the ice skating world by storm six years ago - when he had debuted in the seniors division and Viktor had kept an eye on him ever since. He had almost talked to him too, a year after his debut and the first string of consecutive victories.

 

It had been at the American Skate Cup, just after Yuuri had broken records with his hauntingly beautiful rendition of Lohengrin. They had made eye contact right after Yuuri and his coach had left the kiss and cry. He had looked so happy and flushed with excitement. Viktor had never seen someone more beautiful than this. He had wanted to congratulate him on his score, but he was next up, his performance had to come first.

 

And that was when he fell. One little misstep while preparing for his quadruple Lutz and he had fallen hard - his leg had been broken - his season (and let’s face it, his whole career) over.

 

After he had recovered he simply hadn’t been able to get back to where he had left off. It started when he cut down to only doing triples. Sometimes that was too much. He switched to mainly doing doubles. Then he worried that he wouldn’t be good enough, so he messed up his presentation. He started to step out of landings, clench up during step sequences and simply look pained and too concentrated. He was happy to place at all.

 

But he kept going. He crawled his way up again. He placed third. He placed second. He scraped by on the skin of his teeth. But the magic was gone. He didn’t wow his audience. They pitied him. He resented them for that. And it showed.

 

And now here he was. He had done everything to make it this far. He had trained way past the point of exhaustion. He had worked harder than ever. And he still had tanked it.

 

He gave Katsuki Yuuri a last smile - of course the skater couldn’t see it, he was busy bowing to the audience and receiving flowers and stuffed animals to notice a washed up has-been like him - and left.

 

 

“If you retired, how come you keep coming here after dark?”

 

Viktor turned his head to see Yuri Plisetsky leaning over the boards of the rink, giving him his most disinterested look. Viktor had been too busy slowly gliding over the ice, his mp3 player long forgotten on the sidelines. The music had not been enough to inspire him to do any real training.

 

“I haven’t retired,” he lied.

 

He did not stop his skating to say hi to the junior skater. He had always encouraged the young skater, had even had his back when Yakov wasn’t impressed with Yuri’s little rebellions. The boy possessed an immense amount of potential. Viktor was sure he had surpassed him a long time ago.

 

“Not officially,” Yuri huffed.

 

Viktor could hear the disdain in his voice. He knew that Yuri didn’t want him to retire. He might not admit it, but he had always looked up to Viktor a bit. But Viktor knew that now all he was to the young skater was just one more fallen idol. And even if he hadn’t announced it yet, everyone in Russia and basically the whole world knew that Viktor Nikiforov was over.

 

Viktor let out a small laugh.

 

“Yeah,” he said finally, skating toward him and gently ruffling through his blond hair.

 

“Hey!” Yuri shrieked, slapping Viktor’s hand away and trying desperately to safe his hairstyle and with that his dignity.

 

Viktor almost felt guilty for embarrassing the boy. But since they were all alone in the rink he decided that it wouldn’t be necessary. He still decided to make it up to him, because you didn’t want Yuri Plisetsky as your enemy.

 

“Hey, let me show you something,” Viktor said and skated back into the middle of the rink.  
It took Yuri all of three seconds to recognize it. He and Viktor had both been watching the rise of Katsuki Yuuri and knew all of his programs by heart. Viktor had once given him pointers by having him repeat Katsuki’s programs and telling him when to do exactly as the skater did and how to do things differently, better even.

 

And what Viktor was copying right now was Katsuki’s famous “Wilting”. The way Viktor moved Yuri could almost hear the heavy sigh of the violins, even though the only audible thing was the sound of Viktor’s blades on the ice.

 

Roughly half a minute into the performance, Yuri turned on the camera of his phone to record the desperation and loneliness Viktor created with his body. He moved perfectly in tact with the music that Yuri didn’t need to hear. He bit his bottom lip, trying to react as little as possible. He knew the first jump was coming up, a triple combination. Viktor had nailed those in the past, but Yuri knew how shaky he had become. He wanted to hide - he didn’t even watch Viktor directly - he kept the screen of his phone safely tucked between them. And then Viktor jumped, and nailed the landing. Yuri let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he had been holding.

 

Viktor danced across the ice - weightless and fluid, like a leaf would move with the wind. His expression was torn, there was so much loneliness and despair on his face. He stretched out his arms, reaching for something just out of grasp before sinking to the floor and getting back up, desperate now. He turned, holding onto himself as if to protect himself. Then he set out for the next combination - a quad.  
Yuri held his breath - consciously this time. Viktor touched the ice, but he nailed it. Yuri almost bit his tongue to keep from screeching - he was recording this after all.

 

Viktor continued to rip his way into Yuri’s heart. He tore at his hair, having a break down right in front of Yuri. He moved fast, silently screaming through the empty halls and then he came to a sudden halt. He heaved heavily, waiting the three beats the music paused before the violins started up again. He glided slowly, got into a layback Ina Bauer and then looked up at the headlights over him as if the heavens was all he had left.

 

He raised himself up one last time, his arms reaching above him, before he slowly ran them down his body and sunk to the floor, coming to lay down on the ice.

 

It took a full minute of Viktor heavily breathing with his cheek pressed to the ice underneath him, until Yuri finally hit the button that stopped the recording. It was like surfacing from a long dive under water and not quite realizing how far he had come and where exactly he was. Viktor had been that brilliant. Yuri touched a hand to his cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped his eye. He wasn’t even embarrassed about it. Viktor had made him cry. And he loved it.

 

Meanwhile Viktor got up slowly, brushing over his knees and slowly making his way over to Yuri, who quickly hid his phone away. Yuri knew that Viktor wouldn’t approve of the recording.

 

“So, what do you think?” Viktor asked.

 

His cheeks were flushed and Yuri noticed that he hadn’t seen Viktor this elated in a long time. His smile was actually reaching his eyes for once.

 

“That was amazing!” Yuri greeted him with a smile.

 

Viktor mirrored it. It had been a long time since he had last garnered this much excitement from somebody with his skating. He missed the days when skating meant everything to him. For a long time it had been all he had. And now he didn’t even have that anymore.

 

“You think so?” he asked sheepishly.

 

Yuri nodded.

 

“After that last Grand Prix I didn’t feel welcome on the ice anymore. It was like a stranger to me. Then I thought: What does skating mean to me anymore? And then I thought of Katsuki Yuuri and the effect his routines always have on me… And then it kind of just happened.”

 

Yuri was silent for a long time. Both he and Viktor lost in thoughts.

 

“So what are you going to do now?” he finally asked.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

And Viktor really didn’t.

 

Katsuki Yuuri was laying on his bed back at home. After winning the Grand Pix Finale he had decided to finally take a few weeks off. Celestino and Phichit had been very supportive of that, seeing that he hadn’t been home in almost two years now.

 

His dog Vicchan had been the happiest to see him back home. He had leaped right into Yuuri’s arms when he had come through the door and had refused to leave his side ever since. Yuuri’s arms were already sore from all the petting he had had to make up for.

 

Vicchan had calmed down enough over the last three days to be content with simply lying beside Yuuri on the bed and sleeping. That gave Yuuri at least some time to write a few messages with Phichit, who had also returned home for a few months. But he had taken Celestino with him, as to not miss out on his training. He had won bronze at the Grand Prix and he was definitely not satisfied with that.

 

It was then that Phichit sent Yuuri a link to a YouTube video. Yuuri stared at it. He saw his name. He saw Viktor Nikiforov’s name. And he was a little nervous to play it.

 

Viktor Nikiforov skating to Katsuki Yuuri’s “Wilting”

 

Yuuri took a deep breath before he finally played the video. He could feel the eyes of all the Viktor posters in his room boring into him as he touched his finger to the play button.

 

The skate started a little while into the routine, and the music had clearly been added after. It was too clear and perfect to have actually been playing on the rink. He could clearly hear Viktor’s blades on the ice though. And he wasn’t wearing headphones. That meant that he had skated it without the music.

 

Yuuri’s eyes widened as he watched mesmerized how his idol was moving perfectly in synch with the music. He nailed every single part of the routine, embracing the tone and just letting himself go on the ice. He was literally a wilting flower, delicate and dying, all alone on he ice.

 

Yuuri could feel his heart beat faster. His idol, the Viktor Nikiforov was skating his routine. And he landed all the jumps, even after he had been struggling with injury. It had been a long time since Yuuri had gotten to see Viktor like that. He suddenly felt like a little schoolboy with a crush again.

 

When Viktor landed the quad he gasped loud enough to startle Vicchan next to him. He immediately clamped a hand over his mouth. The Viktor on his phone screen reached for the heavens one last time before he sunk down and succumbed to his death.

 

Yuuri watched as Viktor lay on the cold ice, breathing heavily. The camera zoomed in on Viktor’s face, showing clearly (albeit kind of blurry) the pure elation on Viktor’s face. It was a look Yuuri had never seen on him after a performance before.

He rewatched the video 4 to 10 times before he could even answer Phichit.


End file.
